


8-9-3: A Chivalrous Organization

by RayShippouUchiha



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Kurosaki Ichigo, Bad Parent Kurosaki Isshin, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fighting, Fist Fights, Hurt Kurosaki Ichigo, Hurt/Comfort, Ichigo Accidentally Becomes A Yakuza Boss, Kuorsaki Isshin's A+ Parenting, Kurosaki Ichigo-centric, M/M, My Canon Now Kubo, Oyabun Ichigo, Piercings, Protective Kurosaki Ichigo, Tattooed Ichigo, Tattoos, Winter War, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:53:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23152792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayShippouUchiha/pseuds/RayShippouUchiha
Summary: “I’m gonna give you one chance to get out of here,” Ichigo warns them, voice low and even, heart beating a steady and calm rhythm in his chest.He feels like he can breathe again.“You’re gonna fuckin' regret that,” one of the thugs snarls, a knife flashing in his hand too.“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Ichigo shrugs.The thug scoffs and seven of his friends laugh even as the eighth continues to whimper over his destroyed arm.Ichigo smiles.
Relationships: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke
Comments: 124
Kudos: 1724





	8-9-3: A Chivalrous Organization

**Author's Note:**

> It's me, ya girl, back at it again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Yakuza originates from the traditional Japanese card game Oicho-Kabu. If the three cards drawn are 8-9-3 (pronounced ya-ku-sa in Japanese), the sum is 20 and therefore the score is zero, making it the worst possible hand that can be drawn
> 
> Yakuza call themselves ninkyō dantai (任侠団体/仁侠団体) "chivalrous organizations"

Ichigo wakes up with a snap, going from fitfully asleep to sharp and alert between one second and the next.

The pain comes, as it always does these days, in a sharp wave right after that.

Breath hissing out from between his teeth, Ichigo forces himself to ignore it all and to just _get up_.

Rolling off of his bed Ichigo catches himself on his hands before he face plants on the floor, palms slapping against the cool hardwood as he transitions smoothly into the first of many push-ups.

He’s found, over the past few months, that physical activity is the best way to push through the nightmares that haunt his sleep and the pain that always slams back down on him when he wakes up.

It doesn’t let him forget the memories that eat at him when he closes his eyes or the way his body _hurts_.

It doesn’t let him forget the soul deep _ache_ of all the things he’s done and all the things that have happened _to_ him.

Doesn’t let him forget the way he’d fought and bled and _died_ only to get back up and do it all over again.

It doesn’t let him forget how he’d ripped himself apart at the very seams.

It doesn’t let Ichigo forget any of that but it does help him ignore most of it for at least a little while.

Lets him have small, blissfully numb bits of time.

Snatches of almost peaceful nothingness that he uses like way-points to keep pressing forwards.

And, by this point, Ichigo is willing to take what he can get.

Especially since it seems to be all he really has these days.

Ichigo shakes the thoughts off with a grimace and focuses back on his push ups instead.

No sense wasting his time thinking about things he can’t fix at the moment.

Even if time seems to be the main thing he has enough of these days.

~~~

A quick hundred plus push ups, a short shower, and two pieces of honey toast eaten mechanically over the sink in the silent kitchen later, Ichigo grabs his bag and heads out for school.

The walk, like the majority of Ichigo’s life, is silent and empty these days.

There’s no one meeting him at the intersection or calling his name out from down the street. There’s no warm, steady presence at his side or at his back. No laughter or haughty scoffing or good-natured teasing.

Even more telling somehow is the fact that there are no spirits lurking around corners or at lampposts. There’s no feeling of something _other_ lingering at the edges of his senses like a whisper.

It’s just another thing Ichigo’s slowly began to become accustomed to.

But, despite everything and everyone else he’s lost in the process, his newfound lack of spiritual awareness is one of the things that hurts the most.

Ichigo had never really realized how much of himself was tied up in his extrasensory abilities until the day he lost the ability to _see_.

Until the day an entire portion of his daily world was carved out of him alongside what feels like the majority of his soul.

Once, even back before Shinigami and Hollows, before would-be gods and Arrancar, Ichigo’s world had been spirits of all ages and sizes and manner of death.

Nowadays Ichigo’s day to day life is just …

Shades of gray.

~~~

Classes pass in a hazy sort of daze for Ichigo.

Surrounded by his classmates and hyper aware of just how hard his former friends are working at ignoring him, Ichigo feels adrift.

Like a ship stranded in the midst of a turbulent sea.

Like a lonely star in an already empty sky.

Like a paper lantern pushed free from the shore with no way back, candle flickering in the breeze and water creeping up the sides.

Ichigo’s life has never been so peaceful and his grades have never been higher, his new free time heralding a new massive jump in class rank.

Ichigo has never been lonelier.

Sometimes Ichigo thinks that it might be only a matter of time before his flame flickers all the way out, before he crashes on the rocks, before the water finally pours in over the sides.

Ichigo doesn’t regret what he did to end the fighting, doesn’t regret it even for a _second_.

It was worth every single bit of pain and anguish that came before, during, or after.

It was worth every single price he’s had to pay.

So he doesn’t regret it.

But, most days now, Ichigo can’t help but regret the fact that the fighting was all that ended.

Most days Ichigo can’t help but wonder if, maybe just maybe, it would have been better if he had too.

If when Mugetsu ripped through him and then _out_ , when a part of him had been torn away from the whole and the black had closed in around the edges, he’d just … stayed asleep.

If, maybe, he should have just drifted off right there on the blood soaked sands and then just ... never woken up.

A First Protector finally laid to rest, job done, story over.

Ichigo has never been one to give up but a part of him thinks that maybe, just maybe, that would have been a better ending.

Would have been a better fate than this lonely sort of _stagnation_ he’s stuck in now.

 _Maybe_.

~~~

After school Ichigo’s feet lead him to where they so often do these days.

The riverbank.

Bag slung over his shoulder and free hand stuffed deep into his pocket, Ichigo just stares out over the water.

This was the place where so much of his life had changed. This is where Ichigo’s biggest failure, as a protector, as a son, and as a brother, had taken place.

And maybe that’s why, powerless and numb and no longer whole, he keeps coming back here now, day after day.

A part of him can’t help but wonder if Grand Fisher is still out there somewhere, still luring in women and children. Still destroying lives.

A part of him wonders if there’s a chance that, if he keeps coming back here, then maybe one day it will too.

A part of him wonders if he'd even care.

Ichigo stands there, eyes on the sky, for the longest time.

No one comes.

~~~

It’s dark, the streets are beginning to fill up with what passes for the night life of Karakura Town, when Ichigo finally leaves for home.

He’s in no big hurry, he’d done most of his homework at school, the rest by the riverbank, and he’s more than aware of what he’ll be going back to, of what’s waiting for him back at the house.

A Yuzu who’ll stay in the kitchen fretting over whatever new recipe she’s experimenting with. Who’ll flutter around the edges of everything, hands tangled in her apron and teeth chewing anxiously on her lower lip just like their mom used to do when she was anxious, unsure and unhappy in a way Ichigo hasn’t been able to fix this time.

A Karin who’ll run in just before curfew, hair a mess and resolutely avoiding his eyes like Ichigo doesn’t know what she’s been up to. Like Ichigo didn’t practically raise her and Yuzu both. Like there’s not enough of who, and _what_ , Ichigo had once been still left inside of him that he can’t smell the familiar green tea and sandalwood scent, something he’s always associated with only one man, lingering around her from time to time.

And, last and least like he’s been in so many other areas of Ichigo’s life, there will be Isshin. Isshin who’ll pretend like nothing has changed at all. Isshin who will be content to switch between dramatically wailing at Masaki’s portrait and lashing out at Ichigo under the guise of _training_.

So, really, all of that added to the fact that Ichigo only really eats these days out of habit and the knowledge that he _has to_?

Well there’s not much incentive for Ichigo to get home quickly.

So he doesn’t.

Instead, bag still slung over his shoulder, Ichigo ambles through town, taking a long, winding path back towards the clinic’s direction.

He rounds the corner and passes by a group of guys, all probably a few years older than him. Ichigo ignores them, moving past where they’re huddled together, some of them leaning up against a wall and others smoking.

He’s a few feet away when he hears it, the same kind of bullshit he’s heard for the majority of his life.

“Oi, Nono,” a slightly high pitched voice calls out, “look at that fuckin' hair.”

“That bleach job’s almost as bad as yours Kawachi,” a raspier voice, obviously the now named Nono, replies.

“Fuck you,” Kawachi jabs back.

“Not with your ma’s dick,” Nono crows before Ichigo hears the scrambling of footsteps behind him. “Hey carrot top, slow down, we wanna ask you a question.” 

Ichigo, more than a bit unimpressed, keeps walking.

The footsteps get louder, faster, and Ichigo’s unsurprised when someone darts forward and then in front of him.

“I said,” Nono grins at Ichigo, black hair slicked back and loud print shirt unbuttoned to half way down his chest, “we wanna ask you a question.”

“No interested,” Ichigo tells him flatly as he steps to the side, ready to walk around him and directly out of this situation.

“Now you’re being rude,” Nono tells him, eyes narrowed as he moves to block Ichigo’s movement.

“Hey,” someone else speaks up behind Ichigo then, “I know this guy.”

“ _Oh_?” Nono cuts a look in the speaker's direction. “You friends with the carrot top here, Shirai?”

“ _Hell no_ ,” Shirai moves up and into Ichigo’s line of sight as he answers. He’s shorter than Nono and Ichigo in turn but wider at the shoulders, black hair buzzed close to his skull. “That’s _Kurosaki_ , he’s the one who beat the shit out of Udo and his boys a while back.”

The small crowd that’s moved to surround Ichigo, six guys strong as far as he can tell, begins to mutter harshly.

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Nono barks out with a disbelieving laugh. “Baby face here? No way in hell he’s the one who beat Udo so bad he took his whole group and left Karakura.”

Ichigo’s pretty sure he remembers what they’re talking about. He’d beat down a group of thugs that routinely tried to harass him with Chad’s help a handful of months before Rukia had stepped into his life.

Ichigo had been used to ignoring them but that day they’d been harassing Chiyo-baachan’s little bakery. The shop was the same one that Yuzu still loves so much even now and Chiyo-baachan, a cheerful older woman with strong hands, used to give Ichigo discounts on treats for the girls.

Ichigo hadn’t been able to stand around and just watch her be shaken down for her hard earned money.

It had been one of the more vicious fights Ichigo had been in before the Shinigami had crashed into his life and at least one of those guys had been dragged away with an obviously broken leg.

Ichigo hadn’t seen any of them again after that.

But Chiyo-baachan still gives Ichigo even more free stuff whenever he wanders by the shop so it's a win in his opinion.

“You know,” Nono says then, something almost contemplative in his voice, “Udo was a friend of mine.”

“Look,” Ichigo speaks up again even as he instinctively shifts his weight, “just get out of my way and leave me alone. I’m not looking for a fight tonight.”

“Doesn’t mean a fight ain’t found you,” Nono’s answering grin is mean, sharp around the edges. When he brings a hand up Ichigo is unsurprised to see the balisong he’s twirling between his fingers.

“This isn’t going to go the way you think it is,” Ichigo warns him seriously.

“There’s six of us,” Nono reminds him almost playfully as he shifts on his feet, “Pretty sure I know how it’s gonna go.”

Behind and around him, Ichigo feels it when the others shift as well.

“Well,” Ichigo says as he tightens his grip on his school bag, not bothering to take his other hand out of his pocket, “don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

~~~

A few minutes later Ichigo twirls his new balisong across his fingers and takes a moment to nod his head at the woman in the goggles and the white and purple shirt that’s been watching him from across the street.

She looks like she wants to say something but Ichigo doesn’t bother to stick around. They’d attacked him first and they’ll be down for a good while longer so they won’t be bothering anyone else for the rest of the evening.

Whatever else she might want from him Ichigo’s honestly not interested.

But, despite everything, Ichigo’s steps are just a little bit lighter as he heads the rest of the way home.

~~~

That night he actually gets more than an hour of unbroken sleep at a time.

And when he wakes up the next morning he does double his normal amount of push ups with ease.

That afternoon, after another long and tedious day at school, Ichigo only spends an hour or so at the riverbank.

Instead he roams around Karakura Town, avoiding the Shōten’s neighborhood with ease.

He feels as if he’s looking for something.

Something _familiar_ that he still can’t quite seem to name.

~~~

The next day Ichigo steps in between a woman on the street and a weasel looking guy with no respect for her personal space.

Or her vehement _no_.

The woman thanks Ichigo profusely.

The guy’s too busy bleeding and sobbing about his now missing teeth.

Ichigo wanders off back towards the clinic.

That evening he takes the time to brew a pot of what used to be his favorite tea instead of getting water from the faucet or juice from the fridge.

For the first time in months Ichigo almost enjoys something that he used to love again.

~~~

“You know,” Ichigo says lightly as he prods Kawachi over onto his back and reaches out to pluck yet another knife up off of the ground and another wallet out of a pants pocket, “I’m running out of room to put these things.”

The knife goes in his school bag with the other three he’s collected so far today before Ichigo takes a single bill out of the wallet and then tosses it back down onto Kawachi’s groaning chest.

He’s not looking to rob any of them blind but he’s learned over the past few weeks that a beat down isn’t going to be enough to stop these idiots from messing with him.

Losing yet another knife and a little bit of money though should either piss them off even worse or eventually show them that more than just their pride and the remaining integrity of their limbs is on the line if they don’t leave him alone.

He’s been pretty gentle with them so far after all, more than aware that they’re not even batting in the same league. Hell after the war, and really everything that had come before it too, Ichigo isn’t even playing the same _game_ as they are.

Kicking their asses might keep him entertained for a few minutes every other day or so, and get him paid at least a little bit, but going all out on them, powers or no powers, would be painting with a shade of cruelty that Ichigo’s never really been inclined towards.

So yeah he’s been careful not to do too much in the way of lasting damage to any of them. He hasn’t even broken anything more vital than a few fingers and a nose or three. Well except for Shirai’s wrist but that had been more reflex than intent. Plus Ichigo had splinted it while Shirai was unconscious so he figures that should even things out a bit.

Either way Ichigo’s kicked their asses enough this month that he’s considering the ever growing collection of knives and the extra padding to his personal funds a surcharge of sorts by this point.

“Hopefully I won’t see you tomorrow,” Ichigo finally says as he straightens up, dusts some imaginary lint from his shirt, and then turns on his heel and walks away.

Behind him, laid out on the ground once again, Nono and his boys just groan.

Unseen by anyone, Ichigo can’t help but smile just a bit.

He’s pretty sure he’ll see them again tomorrow.

They don’t seem to know when to stop.

_Idiots._

~~~

Later, alone in his room, Ichigo tosses the new knives into the shoe box with the others and then slides it back underneath his bed. Then he puts the day’s cash haul in the hollowed out dictionary he’d made years ago.

He’s honestly not sure where Nono and his idiots keep getting all of these blades or how they can afford to keep replacing them every other day or so.

But it’s also not really his problem and, regardless, he’s got to admit that he’s got a pretty impressive collection going on now.

Collapsing back onto his bed, Ichigo folds his arms behind his head and just stares at the ceiling.

The past month has been, not _good_ exactly, but … _better_ somehow.

He feels more alert, more alive, more _connected_ than he’s felt since he woke up after the final fight against Aizen.

Ichigo still _hurts_ , that _ache_ deep inside of him hasn’t changed at all, it’s still soul deep and it still gnaws at his nerve endings like a new kind of Encroachment.

But it’s also been just a bit easier to manage for some reason.

Ichigo thinks it might be all of the fighting he’s been doing recently.

It might not actually take any effort from him and his morning workouts might actually get his heart rate up higher than these little bouts but he doesn’t think that matters.

He’s pretty sure it’s the idea of it all and not how much he physically exerts himself that’s making the difference in this occasion.

He’d been drifting, lonely and isolated with nothing really touching him, before Nono and his little pack of idiots had started harassing him a couple of times a week.

But that first confrontation with them had almost woken something inside of Ichigo up again.

Just a little bit.

It had made the gray fade from the edges of his mind just a tad, had even prompted him to step into the middle of a few less than pleasant situations around town just like he used to on a regular basis.

A small slice of what had once been his own version of normal returned to him.

It isn’t much in the long run but, as Ichigo knows all too well, even a small improvement is better than nothing.

It’s enough to make him feel almost fond of the band of idiots.

Almost.

~~~

Saturday comes and Ichigo wakes with an itch beneath his skin that goes beyond his regular hurts.

He does his workout, doesn’t bother with food, and heads out to school, shoulders tense and eyes watchful.

There’s something in the air today that’s putting him on edge, an instinct honed long before Shinigami became a reality to him flaring in the back of his mind.

Classes pass in a haze and Ichigo makes it out of the building in half the time he normally takes because he feels like something is _wrong_.

His first stop is Karin and Yuzu’s school, but all Ichigo has to do is pause for a moment outside the gate before he sees both of them already on the way towards their regular clubs.

They don’t see him before he slips away again but that’s more than fine with Ichigo.

His feet take him back into town and, before Ichigo can stop himself, he realizes he’s moving in the direction of the Shōten.

Ichigo bites back a grimace but keeps moving anyways.

Just because h- _they_ don’t want Ichigo around anymore doesn’t mean he’s going to ignore his long earned and refined instincts.

He’s halfway to the Shōten when he hears it.

A bitten off yell followed by loud cursing and pained grunting.

Ichigo’s swerving and moving in that direction without a second thought.

The closer he gets the more he can hear, including the familiar sound of fists hitting flesh.

A fight.

And, from what he can hear, a brutal one.

Ichigo rounds the corner at a run and that’s when he sees it.

It’s a fight alright, a group of fifteen or so packed into the close confines of the alley and attacking each other with a raw and brutal sort of violence.

But what really sticks with Ichigo is that this isn’t just any street fight.

Because of those fifteen guys seemingly determined to destroy each other, Ichigo knows six of them.

Kawachi’s sprawled out on the ground of the alley, obviously unconscious. Standing protectively in front of him, balled fists raised high despite the way he’s wavering on his feet and bleeding from the head, is Shirai.

Toyokuni, normally so quiet, is letting out a low stream of curses as he kicks out at two guys at once. Beside him, teeth bared in a snarl, is Morri who seems determined not to let anyone past him and near Siagyo, the smallest and youngest of their group.

And there, off to the side and facing off against three guys at once, is Nono.

They’re all some degree of beat up and bloody while the other nine guys look fine besides a few cuts and already forming bruises.

For a split second Ichigo’s tempted to walk away, to leave them to whatever new bullshit they’ve managed to get tangled up in.

They are, after all, not his responsibility.

But then a glint catches Ichigo’s attention and he’s moving without a thought.

His bag goes flying, knocking the knife that was headed for Nono’s unprotected back away.

The thug who’d been holding it curses and goes to turn, but Ichigo is there before he finishes the movement.

Ichigo’s hands snap out, there’s a loud, splintering sort of crack, and the thug drops, _wailing_ , as he clutches at his freshly shattered arm.

The sleeve of his shiny dress shirt is already growing dark with blood.

Ichigo has no interest in going too easy on him after all.

“ _Kurosaki_ ,” Nono murmurs, face bloody and eyes wide.

Ichigo doesn’t bother to say anything to him.

“I’m gonna give you one chance to get out of here,” Ichigo warns them, voice low and even, heart beating a steady and calm rhythm in his chest.

He feels like he can breathe again.

“You’re gonna fuckin' regret that,” one of the thugs snarl, a knife flashing in his hand too.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Ichigo shrugs.

The thug scoffs, seven of his friends laugh even as the eighth continues to whimper over his destroyed arm.

Ichigo _smiles_.

~~~

“You’re a bunch of idiots,” Ichigo tells Nono dryly even as he crouches down beside Shirai to get a better look at the still sluggishly bleeding cut on his head. “You’d think me kicking your asses on the regular would teach you a lesson about being outclassed in a fight.”

The cut’s long but not too deep. It won’t need stitches but Shirai and Kawachi both probably have a concussion.

And all of them are going to need bandages and the like Ichigo realizes as he straightens up with a slightly irritated sigh. He also knows none of them will go to an actual hospital or clinic.

“Here,” Ichigo shoves about half of the money he’d taken off the other thugs into Siagyo’s limp hand. He seems a bit shaken but he’s in the best shape of all of them. “Go get some first aid supplies, make sure everyone gets home and cleans up.

Siagyo just blinks at him again, expression almost dazed.

“Get to it,” Ichigo orders roughly.

To his surprise Siagyo blinks, shakes his head sharply, and then turns on his heel and sprints out of the alley.

“Well,” Ichigo says as he watches Siagyo turn the corner and disappear from view, “none of you are dying and he’ll be back before too long so I’m going home. Try not to do anything stupid for a few days alright? Otherwise I’ll have to kick all of your asses even harder than usual.”

Ichigo picks up his bag, tosses a wave in the direction of Nono who’s still staring at him like he’s never seen him before, and then heads out of the alley.

That was an interesting ten minutes although still not much of a challenge.

He’s pretty sure those other guys won’t be a problem again though. He’d given them a warning and then a demand. And then he’d been nice enough to make sure to leave them with enough intact limbs between them to get everyone out of the alley and then out of Karakura Town before sunset.

Maybe.

Either way, it doesn’t really matter. If they know what’s good for them they’ll do what he said and get out of Karakura.

Because if he runs into them making trouble again Ichigo already knows he won’t be as nice as he was this time.

But that’s an issue for the future.

For now Ichigo just wants to get home.

He’s got more knives and money to add to his stash after all.

~~~

Monday comes and Ichigo can’t decide if he’s surprised or not to see Nono and the others clustered together across the street from his school once classes let out for the day.

But, for some reason, none of them say anything.

There are no taunts, no calls, no attempts to attack like there normally are.

After a long moment spent locked in some half-assed staring contest with no end in sight, Ichigo shrugs and turns to head towards the riverbank.

Behind him he hears it when the whispers break out.

~~~

The same thing happens the next day.

And then the next.

And the next.

And then, finally, on Friday everything changes.

This time, after their now customary staring contest outside the school, the entire group follows Ichigo to the riverbank instead of staying behind.

Standing there on the riverbanks, bag abandoned on the grass behind him and hands shoved into his pockets, Ichigo just waits.

He never attacks first in these encounters and he has absolutely no desire to change that now. Especially not here.

For a long moment a thick sort of silence settles in the air around him and the group across from him.

And then Nono steps forward until he’s standing a few feet in front of the others.

“Kurosaki,” Nono’s voice is, to Ichigo’s confusion and slight surprise, almost _respectful_. “You’re strong. Stronger than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

Ichigo doesn’t say anything because he can’t exactly argue that. He’s pretty sure no one Nono’s ever met has been through half of the shit Ichigo’s experienced since he was fifteen. And, well, he's always been a bit of a freak.

“Karakura Town is up for grabs,” Nono keeps going. “We thought we could take it, make it ours. But we know better now.”

Ichigo nods along slowly. A part of him is glad that they’re rethinking things even as the rest of him wonders if this is supposed to be a goodbye of some sort.

He’ll never admit it but a part of him really hopes it’s not.

They're the closest thing he has to real social interaction and entertainment these days.

Plus, willing to admit it or not, Ichigo is tired of goodbyes of all kinds.

“So I, we, thought about things or a while,” Nono continues, “and we all agree.”

The others move forwards then until they’re just a step or so behind Nono.

And then, as one, they all bow deeply in Ichigo’s direction.

“ _Please_ ,” Nono entreats, face still pointed towards the ground, “we can’t do this without your help, Kurosaki. _Be our Boss!_ ”

“ _Kurosaki-oyabun!_ ” The others call out sharply.

Stunned, all Ichigo can do is blink just a bit in shock.

“Well,” Ichigo says when he finally manages to gather his wits together enough to speak, "I can honestly say I didn't see that one coming.”

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure you let me know what you think and come scream at me on tumblr
> 
> http://rayshippouuchiha.tumblr.com/
> 
> And check out this story tag at #Oyabun Ichigo AU


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